


Simmer

by Otonymous



Category: SLBP - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: Masamune beats the summer heat by generating some of his own.





	Simmer

**Author's Note:**

> The snow is finally melting, so here's a story set in much warmer weather! Gratuitous PWP, that is all. Hope you all enjoy it!

On those sticky nights when there was nothing else to do but lie quietly on the veranda and feel the heat coming off one’s skin in invisible waves, you loved to run away from the stone ramparts of Yonezawa Castle, your lover’s fingers tightly intertwined with yours, tacky with sweat.

The soldiers stationed at the gates barely paid the pair of you any attention, assuming you were a page off to run an errand, and never guessing that the man dressed in simple robes, face hidden beneath a straw hat, was the lord of the castle.

The Dragon of Oshu discretely trained a green eye in your direction, his heart warming at the sight of your face flushed in exertion, trying unsuccessfully to suppress your mischievous laughter at having finally evaded the prying eyes of Kojuro and Shigezane. And as the quick movement of your legs took the pair of you further and further into the wilds, he wonders if you are real or a figment of his imagination, conjured up to fill all the lonely spaces of his heart left empty by a lifetime of rejection by those who should have held him dear.

Making your way amongst a dense collection of reeds that stood shoulder to shoulder with you, reaching up like so many supplicant hands to the night sky, you finally turn to face him, the collar of Yahiko’s kimono already coming undone to reveal the virginal white of your binding cloth. Masamune barely registers the warm breeze coming off the river to tousle his hair when his hat falls by the wayside, the intention of his mind as singular as his body when he rushes to touch you at the insistence of your mouth forming the quiet word,

“Come.”

One hand tugs at his eyepatch as the other reaches out to cradle your cheek, its warmth encouraging you to look up at his face from where you’ve settled onto your knees on the spongy earth. Hungry eyes of sapphire and emerald widen when you bring your lips to his cock, deliberately hesitating a hair’s breadth from contact to prolong savouring the offering before you. On instinct, Masamune’s hips buck slightly, pushing his silken head past your waiting lips to fill your mouth with a heat that rivalled the temperatures of the sweltering season.

The Lord of the Date clan was a man of few words, but even he couldn’t suppress the moans your lips and tongue drew from him as they worked their way up and down his length. You kept your gaze fixed on his unusually expressive face as your head drew closer and closer to the hard plane of his groin, willing yourself to suppress the reflex that would prevent you from swallowing him whole. And every time his head falls back in ecstasy, every time white teeth bite down on the plush lower lip you love to suck into your mouth, the overwhelming desire to please has you salivating with each slide of his cock against your flattened tongue.

Your kneading hands sense the tensing muscles of his backside through his loosened hakama, and not long after, he spills into your mouth, coating the hollow of your cheeks and flooding your tongue as you make to swallow all that he leaves behind.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

Masamune says under his breath as he kneels to face you, gently wiping away the cum glistening on your lips in the moonlight, and as his index finger drags across their swollen softness, the lust in his eyes flickers back to life despite the guilt hanging on his brows.

“May I?”

His question resonates over the din of rushing water nearby, and he is on you the instant you nod, tongue slipping into your mouth to partake in the lingering salt of his release as his hands work feverishly at the bindings around your chest and the hakama at your waist.

When you feel the heat of his breath lingering at your entrance, close enough to send the blood rushing in throbbing pulses through your sensitive flesh, the anticipation has you craning your neck to look at your lover. What you see makes you blush.

Masamune is staring at your pussy, eyes glazed over as if entranced by the sight. When he finally ventures to skim his finger over the length of your folds, admiring the strands of arousal that cling to his hand, you close your eyes to avoid burning up from embarrassment.

“You’re so beautiful.”

They fly open again as you gasp at the contact of his mouth on you, his voice muffled as he makes his confession in the midst of lapping desperately between your legs. And when his fingers push into your wetness to curl and press at the end of every stroke, you are so thankful for the ability of the river to drown out the noises you weren’t even aware you could make.

Masamune’s breathy whimper in your ear makes you wrap your trembling legs tighter around his waist, the sensation of his entry so sweet you want to keep him there forever. The dim light of the stars overhead start to blur with every body-shaking thrust, and you struggle for breath in the stagnant summer air as his pace picks up. One large hand weaves into your disheveled topknot to tilt your head, allowing Masamune to suck at the tender flesh of your neck as you feel him tremble against you before collapsing by your side.

* * *

 

Thoroughly refreshed, you smile conspiratorially at each other as you approach Yonezawa Castle, painfully aware of the dreadful way you both must have looked with mud-caked clothing and grass in your hair. But the soldiers at the gate only widen their eyes for a moment before stepping aside to let their lord and his page through, thinking on how strange it was that no one even saw the One-Eyed Dragon leave in the first place. 


End file.
